FOR GIRLS WHO GROW PLUMP IN THE NIGHT

There three highlights of particular note on this record: The opener, the closer, and the one in the middle ("C'thulu"), though it's worth the twice the purchase price to hear one particular flute solo that's only one minute and forty-six seconds long. The record starts off with "Memory Lain," a jumpy, infectious, insistent traveling beat that lends their name a new meaning as the band jumps straight into the action with both feet. After two short verses and a repeated theme, one of the most melodic, well-thought out, and powerfully evocative guitar solos quickly takes hold, followed by a flute. THAT flute solo. This is played by one Jimmy Hastings, elder brother of the lead guitarist/singer Pye Hastings, and in trying to describe its sheer mind-crushing power and brilliance, I'm completely at a loss for words. This guy can play circles around the likes of Ian Anderson or basically any other wind player you can think of working vaguely the same general musical territory, and I base this on this ONE performance, the only disadvantage being the fact that the flute is just a tad buried in the mix. The closer to this whole affair - "L'auberge Du Sanglier" (my high school french fails me) - is a ten minute *instrumental*. That's right boys and girls, not a word spoken or sung for ten full minutes. After a brief guitar/viola introduction, the band unleashes a fury in 5/8 that lasts about four minutes, (which after two guitar leads is just a bit overstated), and gives the feeling of driving 90 into a tree as the noise and energy evaporates, leaving only a solo piano, then joined by an alto saxophone, then a synthesizer (which should have been toned down a bit, I think), then strings, then guitars, then drums, then the kitchen sink.. you get the idea. For the next four minutes, the tempo stays easy but the layers continue to pile on, as first this instrument sings the melody, then that one, then another, and reaches a near-fever pitch - stopping abruptly, shifting gears without a clutch, and then jarring you out of your blissful state into that violent 5/8 section from before, which is quickly restated once and closed with a tremendous thunderclap. That's it - the record's over. A marvelously remarkable piece, one that will make you replay it frequently to find hidden gems in the layers of outstanding musicianship.